


Between Rivers

by Catlorde



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Angst, Din Djarin - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Forced Marriage (kind of), OC, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Rating a little shaky, Romance, Touch-Starved, female oc - Freeform, helmetless Din, maybe some non-graphic sex later on, the mandalorian - Freeform, touch starved idiots, will post any warnings at the beginning of each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26475532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catlorde/pseuds/Catlorde
Summary: A Mandalorian can’t show their face to anyone - with the exception of immediate family. Although they haven’t known each other long, there’s definitely something growing between them. But is it enough? When an ex-spy must look beneath the helmet to save Din Djarin’s life, there’s only one option that allows him to continue following his Creed. Marriage.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Character(s), Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), Mando/Original Character(s), Mando/Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian/Original Character(s), The Mandalorian/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 68
Kudos: 210





	1. The Cottage Between Mountains

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_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter One:** _

_**The Cottage Between Mountains** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

Din Djarin's first encounter with the woman that would eventually become his wife was… a little unusual, as far as jobs went.

Movet was a cold world; not in the frozen wasteland category like Hoth, but vibrant and alive; cold - with some seasonal variance. It was early summer now. The snow in the valleys had melted, but still clung to the stone-faced mountain peaks that loomed over everything like elder gods. The valleys between grew flowers that dusted the landscape with every color, dotting the grass as the stars did the sky.

There wasn't much this far north; the nearest town was nearly forty kilometers away. The bounty was clearly self-sufficient; capable of surviving the elements and predators he knew to roam the Movetian mountains.

The bounty puck had called for a woman by the name of Ena Sma, and the fob at his hip was blinking up at her. She was on the roof of her little cottage in the middle of nowhere, replacing shingles and strengthening the supports that had been weakened during the winter snows.

She was busy, distracted, and not at all impressed by his Mandalorian obscurity and bounty hunter posturing.

To his knowledge, she was an ex-spice runner that had spied for the Empire. He assumed she was wanted by one of the cartels she had delivered information on. In essence, a bounty that would not weigh on his conscience.

Spies could be tricky, though, especially one that had the gall to deal with the Empire at the expense of spice dealers. To minimize his chances of being detected, the Mandalorian had skirted her territory, careful to program a descent vector that avoided flying directly overhead, and landed about 20 kilometers out, putting him beyond the security field his sensors had detected.

From there, things had gone smoothly. The security field had been easy to disable; the emitters weren't hard to find and not particularly complex, making him suspect that the fence was for animals. To keep them out or in, Din wasn't sure.

Now that he was here, he understood. The fence was to keep the bounty's animals _in._ And _Kriff,_ what animals they were. Lounging about the rolling field that surrounded the house and barn were massive wolf-like canines with sloping backs and shaggy summer coats. From what he could see, most of them came up to his chest; when one yawned he could see its curved fangs were the length of his thumb.

Perhaps they were why she was so unconcerned by the presence of a bounty hunter. He could see the sled tucked away by the house and the wolf-sized harnesses adorning the side of the barn on hooks, but it wasn't hard to imagine that they'd been trained to attack as well as pull.

The Mandalorian rested a hand on his blaster in its holster, but didn't draw it.

The bounty stared down at him appraisingly. Her auburn hair pulled back into a messy braid glowed in the sun; individual strands of blonde and red glittering when she moved. She was wrapped in natural furs and leathers, clad in heavy boots with a hammer in hand.

"What's the name?" She asked finally. Her thick Movetian accent curled elegantly around the words, brusque but with a lilt that was pleasant to the ear.

Din blanked. "Name?"

"The bounty. Which name?"

He tilted his helmeted head. He was used to his bounties running, fighting, or making bribes. This was new.

She began to get impatient. "On the puck. The name. What is it?"

Uncertain what reaction to expect, he said, "Ena Sma."

She nodded thoughtfully, her lovely heart shaped face pulled into a frown as she went back to absentmindedly puzzling the shingles together with her hammer.

Din waited for her to work through her thoughts. He knew where she was. She wasn't going anywhere. There weren't any weapons or backup for her to be stalling for - at least as far as he could figure. He could afford to wait a few minutes - for curiosity's sake, if nothing else.

Movet was a beautiful planet; or at least it used to be. It was the fourth planet in the Hibigea system, which played an important role in the Empire's mining efforts. Worlds like Movet had been stripped away in chunks, layer by layer, until the once pristine and practically untouched mineral deposits had been bled dry and the ecosystems trampled and poisoned beyond recognition. Regarding the fact that the Empire had dissolved only a year prior, it was nice to see places like this had survived. Even if it was buried deep in the planet's _almost_ uninhabited wilderness, where there had been less Empire activity.

He had to appreciate her choice of location. A small cabin tucked away in a flower-filled valley between snow capped mountains, framed by monolithic evergreen woodland and in sight of the river. It was a lonely existence, but perfect if you didn't want to be bothered.

Din could think of worse places to retire.

Finally, the bounty looked up. She fixed him with her clear grey stare and said, "10,000 credits."

He couldn't help but be a little disappointed. "I don't take bribes."

Her glare sharpened. "I didn't finish."

The Mandalorian frowned under his helmet. He tilted his head, inviting her to continue.

She balanced expertly over to the ladder and hopped down it, light on her feet. Dusting off her hands, she strode over to stand fearlessly before him. Now that they were level, he could see that her height was average, if a little on the short side. Her build was mostly hidden by her clothes, but a bit squat and stocky. Generally unremarkable, but still rather pretty.

The top of her head only just made it to his chin, but the severe look in her eyes leveled him, making him feel as if she were still looking down at him from the roof.

She laid out the deal. "10,000 credits. Your choice in currency. You still take me in and cash in the bounty like normal."

Wary, he tipped his visor down. "What do you get out of it?"

She sniffed. "You let me finish my roof. You look the other way at any weapons I take with me. When we part, you say nothing about me or this place to anyone. Ever. Deal?"

It made sense now. She wasn't going to squabble with hunters for her freedom; she was going to the source. He wasn't sure if taking her deal went against Guild Code or not. Even if it did, did it matter? As long as it couldn't get traced back to him, what did the life of a spice lord or two mean to him? A lot less than 10,000 credits.

"Fine." He glanced up at the roof. "How long till you're done?"

She gave a satisfied nod and turned her calculative gaze back to her work. "The rest of the day. We can leave at first light."

"No," he bit out, disliking the idea of staying on a quarry's home terf longer than he had to. Even if they'd struck a deal, he'd be at her mercy. "Tonight."

She scowled, hands perched on her hips. "You stay here at the house. You die in the forest. Doesn't mean a damn thing to me. I'll make the deal with the next hunter to come along."

She couldn't see his mouth open to retort, but held up a finger to silence him anyway.

"You'll stay here tonight. There's an extra room. I'll feed you." Without confirming if he accepted this or not, she turned away and went back up her ladder. Once at the top, she looked over her shoulder to add, "If I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead. You're safe here, so long as we're on the same page."

No longer interested in him, she went back to tap, tap, tapping at the shingles and didn't say another word for the rest of the day.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	2. The Guest

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_**Chapter Two:** _

_**The Guest** _

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_**.** _

The rest of the day went by in a drone of insects and snuffling of wolves. Din wasn't really sure what to do with himself while he waited. She hadn't told him not to, but going inside without permission felt… rude. If nothing else, he didn't want to make her think he was sabotaging the home she'd built for herself or snooping for things to steal.

Eventually, he settled on sitting on the porch in one of the wooden rockers. But despite the constant hammering coming from somewhere above his head, all was peaceful. Warmed by the late afternoon sun, he caught himself nodding off.

Not that dozing in a situation like this was inherently a bad thing. On the contrary, learning to rest whenever you could was an important technique of the hunter lifestyle. But today the idea lost its appeal when he was startled back into consciousness by something cold and wet jutting in under his helmet and bumping into his chin.

Waking up to a gigantic wolf trying to smell under your helmet _did not_ encourage peaceful slumber.

For a few moments, he sat stock still, worried that one wrong move would lead to him getting his throat torn out. But despite its size, the wolf seemed friendly. It's tail waved slowly from one side to the other, its sharp yellow eyes round and curious. It's fur was mottled brown and white, still halfway between its summer and winter coats, serving to make it look a bit rumpled and shaggy, but underneath, muscles rippled, strong as steel and born of the hunt.

The wolf continued nosing at his face, sniffing loudly at his clothing and armor.

" _No,"_ Din grunted when the beast tried worming its tongue under the rim of his helmet. He tried to push its great head away, his glove sinking deep into the patchy fur. "Go… go somewhere else."

The wolf wasn't at all perturbed. In fact, it seemed to take it as a sign that the strange faceless newcomer wanted to play. It tossed its head back and planted paws the size of Din's hands against his shoulders, knocking him back and making the chair rock as it did its level best to climb into his lap. Thankfully, it was too big to fit, and settled for draping the upper half of its body across his legs and mouthing at his gloved hands.

"Get… _off_ …" Din struggled to his feet. Excited, the wolf leapt off his lap and danced in circles, almost knocking him down when it bowled into his legs.

"That's Nana." Din stiffened at the sound of the quarry's voice. She stood on the edge of the porch, pulling off her work gloves and tucking them into her belt. She was sweaty; strands of auburn hair that had fallen out of the braid fanned out around her face. Her pale eyes gleamed as brightly as the wolf's. "The babysitter. She cares for the pups. She likes to make friends."

The Mandalorian responded with a single curt nod. If the woman noticed his sheepishness at being snuck up on while struggling with the glorified dog, she didn't show it. Instead, she knocked the mud off her boots and vanished inside the house.

Din hesitated a moment, then followed - but not before knocking some of the mud off his boots as she had done.

The inside of the quarry's cottage was rustic and homey. It was built for function and maintaining heat during the winter months, but Din appreciated the decorative carvings in the tables and door frames; depictions of wolves, flowers, fish, and some of the megafauna that could be found on Movet.

The Mandalorian's hand twitched with the instinctive urge to catalogue his weapons when his eyes found the carving of an olarba; a great predator with the likeness of a bear, but twice the size and armed with razor sharp tusks.

The front of the house consisted of a seating area with worn green suede furniture surrounding a hearth. From there led two doors, one into a kitchen, and the other down a dark hallway.

The quarry jerked her chin to the hall. "Second door on the left."

She went in the direction of the kitchen, but stopped to kick aside a rug made from the same green fabric as the couch and chairs, revealing a trap door.

Din paused long enough to see her open the trap door and descend down a flight of stairs, presumably into a kind of cellar. He made a note of it, but didn't ask.

The second door to the left led to a small bedroom. It wasn't much, but more than adequate for his purposes. The covers were made of silky furs and the pillows were feather stuffed. There was a polished hardwood desk beneath a window looking out over the meadow, pale evening light filtering in through the thin curtains.

The Mandalorian took stock of everything in the room. A closet stuffed with winter boots and furs. A few penknives in the drawer of the desk, as well as some paper and matches to go with the small wood heater in the far corner. The door he originally thought led to a second closet yielded a small refresher, which he made use of.

When he felt certain the quarry hadn't left him any surprises, he eased down on the edge of the bed and tugged off his helmet. Sitting it carefully on the furs beside him, Din took a few moments to just sit and breathe. Although the day hadn't been particularly tough - long hikes weren't uncommon for someone in his profession - he felt drained. Maybe it was knowing that he could probably be back at the Crest by now and not at the mercy of a stranger.

Though to be fair, if he wasn't here, he'd probably be wolf-food by now. The other beasts didn't seem as overly-friendly as Nana.

Helmet off, he caught a whiff of cooking meat. His stomach growled. Night was falling, and he hadn't eaten since he left the Razor Crest around dawn. Remembering her promise of food, he replaced his helmet and made his way silently back into the main foyer.

The quarry had returned from the cellar, the entrance to which now closed and hidden by the rug. She stood by the stove over a large pot, stirring. On the counter was a slab of still frozen meat wrapped in cloth. Venison, at a guess.

She must have felt him looming in the doorway, because she didn't so much as glance his way before addressing him. "Top shelf, left side. The jar of peppers."

Din complied, finding the jar and passing it to her. She hummed in assent. He spent the next ten minutes or so fetching - and in once case cutting - the odds and ends that went into the pot, which was now brimming with a thick, hearty stew.

If the quarry thought it were odd to have a large armoured man in her kitchen, she hid it well. Din certainly thought it bizarre. He was armed to the teeth; still wearing his blaster with his rifle slung over his shoulder, but he was cutting potatoes and tossing them into the pot (after her insisting that he take off his gloves and wash his hands, of course).

Din was quietly proud of how neatly he was able to dice the potatoes, and was glad for the privacy his helmet offered when the quarry nodded her approval of the tidy little cubes - they would _cook even._

It was weird.

Unexpectedly nice, but weird.

Domesticity was foreign to him. There had been some elements of it built into the communal lifestyle of Mandalorian barracks; taking turns cooking and cleaning for the group and caring for foundlings. But he hadn't spent much time in the covert since he'd come of age and set out on his own.

Din was more than a little bewildered at his own disappointment when the quarry turned off the stove and set the pot to the side. She fetched a large bowl from another cabinet and filled it with a heaping portion of stew.

She passed it to him along with a spoon and a large empty glass. "If you want more, help yourself. There's plenty."

"Thank you," Din said.

The quarry nodded, the barest hint of a smile twitching up the corners of her lips. Instead of making a bowl for herself, she kicked off her work boots and padded back to the door in her socks. There were a pair of rubber boots sitting by the door, caked in mud and what appeared to be dried blood.

"Where are you going?" Din asked before he could catch himself.

She toed on the boots. "Guests aren't the only ones needing fed."

The quarry vanished into the night.

Of course she would want to feed the wolves before sitting down to dinner. He had been listening to their impatient barks and yelps growing louder over the last few minutes. Maybe it was a side effect of being so violently blindsided by home-making, but he felt the urge to set his bowl down and wait for her to come back before he settled in to eat.

It was ridiculous, of course. Also pointless. Not that he could sit and eat with her _anyway_.

Reprimanding himself for foolishness as his gut twisted in a way that felt suspiciously like loss - or even worse, regret - Din filled his glass with water and banished himself back into the guest room.

_**~0~0~0~  
**_.


	3. The Bounty

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_**Chapter Three** _

_**The Bounty** _

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_**.** _

Morning came gently on Movet. The sun's rays found the mountaintops long before it reached the valleys, setting the snow on the peaks ablaze with white fire, which in turn reflected into the lower regions and cast them in an ethereal glow.

Din, of course, was awake long before then. He'd slept well on the bed of soft furs, having removed most of his armor save for the helmet. By the time he'd decided to sleep, he had relaxed enough to believe that the quarry had no ill intentions towards him, but that hadn't stopped him from wedging the desk chair under the door and drifting off with his blaster in hand.

He took the predawn birdsong as his signal to start the day. Each piece of armour went back into place like scales. Despite the battered and worn nature of each piece, despite the dents and scratches - some present when he'd received it, others added since - he buckled each in place with reverence. His armor was an extension of himself. It kept him alive. It was his Creed. The Way.

When everything was in place, he was again tempted back into the front rooms by the smell of cooking. He made his way back to the kitchen, only to freeze in the doorway at the sight of a stranger fussing over a pan of bacon and eggs.

His hand had actually flown to his blaster before he recognized the elegant heart shaped face and squat build. Despite not having looked up at his entrance, a small amused smile twitched on the quarry's lips.

"Glad to know my disguise is effective," she said brightly.

Her hair was a little shorter now, hanging loose around her shoulders instead of draping down her back in a braid. The auburn hair he'd come to associate with her had been smothered by a rich shade of raven black. It was still damp from being rinsed. Beneath the smell of bacon was the bitter tang of dye.

Din nodded curtly. "It is."

He was unexpectedly disappointed. Not that his opinion mattered in the slightest, but he'd thought the original fiery auburn had suited her quite well.

She hummed her appreciation and slid half of the bacon and eggs into a plate, which she passed to him, saying, "Well, we can't all maintain anonymity behind a helmet, Mandalorian."

"I suppose not."

Her eyes were different too. Dark brown.

He tilted his head curiously.

Her brow furrowed for a moment as she studied him, then relaxed with an easy smirk. "Oh, the eyes! Colored contacts."

"Huh." He had to hand it to her, if he had just seen her in passing, he never would have known. "It's… very good."

She nodded at the half-forgotten plate he held. "Eat. I will tend the _olfdo_ , and then we may leave."

_**  
~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

Half an hour later, they set out to find the _Razor Crest_. Din described the small clearing he'd landed in and where it was in reference to the river. The quarry said that she already knew.

He didn't ask how.

As agreed, he didn't comment on the blaster she tucked in her waistband or the knife hidden within her boot, though he did pay careful attention to them - just in case she changed her mind about their deal.

It was a long walk, but a nice one. Yesterday he had been in hunting mode and couldn't afford to admire the sunlight filtering through the monolithic evergreen trees - even as he slunk through them. Now, he was able to appreciate the way the spongy carpet of lichen and fallen pine needles absorbed the sound of his footfalls as well as the faint hum of birdsong and summer insects that disguised his modulated breaths. Small mammals scurried through the underbrush, occasionally startling and diving back into burrows.

Some of the wolves - or _olfdo_ , as the quarry called them - trailed after them for a while, weaving in and out of underbrush and snapping playfully at the insects they stirred up as they went. But eventually they melted one by one into the foliage.

He and the quarry chatted as they walked. Din found himself starting to enjoy her company. Although she neatly skirted any indirect inquiries about why she had a bounty on her or why she chose such an isolated place to retire, she was more than happy to discuss the _olfdo_ , the landscape, and the Movetian lifestyle.

As expected, she was a jack of all trades. She talked woodworking, hunting, fishing, tanning, and local flora and fauna. Apparently she had a very large underground greenhouse where she grew vegetables and wildflower seedlings all year long.

He asked her what else she had hidden underground.

She chuckled knowingly, a sly glint in her dark eyes. "The essentials."

Din had no idea what that meant, but was privately relieved that she'd been ready to strike a deal instead of making him work for her payload.

When they reached the energy perimeter, he was surprised to see it live and buzzing with electricity, as he hadn't put it back up after deactivating it when he crossed. The quarry deactivated it with practiced ease and let him through.

He looked up from watching her recouple the lines to see Nana, the _olfdo_ from the day before, standing on the other side and looking a little dejected. She twitched her ears at the Mandalorian and wagged her tail slowly.

"They gonna be okay while you're gone?"

The quarry didn't bother looking up from her work. "Yes. They have food."

He hated to point out the obvious, but did so anyway. "And if you don't come back?"

She sniffed. "They can also hunt."

He nodded slowly, folding his arms across his chest. "There enough game within the perimeter?"

She nodded distractedly. "Mhm. Most of the time. The _fielkir_ … the… the elk-deer… They jump straight over the barrier and come in and out all the time."

Din grunted in acknowledgement.

"And, worse case, the _olfdo_ can leave and hunt beyond," she went on. "They do not like to, but the electricity doesn't slow the adults down much…"

Din filed that away for later.

"...but it keeps the young ones in. And most predators out."

His head tipped to the side. "The _Olarba_?"

The barrier hummed back to life. The quarry turned to face him, expression dark. "Most of the time."

From there, it didn't take long to reach the _Crest._ By then, it was well into the afternoon and the small clearing he'd stowed the ship in was slanted with golden light.

The quarry hummed her approval as she padded across the mossy ground, appraising the blaster cannons with an experienced eye. "Pre-Empire. Solid design. You've done well to keep her from the Imperial impounds."

Din tapped at his vambrace, unlocking the hatch and lowering the ramp before leading the way onboard. The darkness within was welcoming after the long trek across unfamiliar woodland. A few of the lights flickered on, but didn't offer much besides illuminating the dull metal walls and a few of the dusty crates shoved into the corners. It was empty and decrepit, but it was home. Or at least the closest thing he had to one.

The quarry's soft footsteps on the ramp reminded him that there was more to do before he could relax. Din turned to face her. She stood between him and the hatch, framed by sunlight. He couldn't make out her eyes in the darkness, but her stance was non threatening and relaxed.

"What's the plan from here?" He asked, a little uncertain.

The quarry peered around his shoulder, her eyes flickering around the bay before settling on the carbonite freezer and the other bounties stowed behind it. She nodded satisfactorily to herself.

"Your normal method is the freezer, I take it. We can conclude our business now, then."

Din frowned. "You sure?"

She felt inside one of her coat's interior pockets and came away with a hefty pouch of credits. She bounced it once in her hand before holding it out to him.

When she spoke again, it was without her usual brusque Movetian accent, but with a different lilt that sounded as if it had been derived from Huttese and then lightly textured with slave cant. She delivered it flawlessly.

"Yeah. It's the easiest way. For both of us, I think."

He was still processing the sudden change in tone as she trotted over to the carbonite freezer and settled back into the harness. He finally followed, the credit pouch held forgotten in his hand.

She looked up at him expectantly.

Din hesitated, but wasn't entirely sure why. Yeah, it was easier. Especially for him. He'd be lying if he said he didn't look forward to being alone on his ship, deep in hyperspace where he could take off his helmet without constantly having to be on guard. But he'd found her to be easy company, something that didn't happen often in his field of work, and he was at loathe to lose it so quickly.

A glimmer of surprise crossed her face. She studied him, her brown furrowed with concern. "Is there a problem?"

He flushed hot with embarrassment, but didn't outwardly express it.

"No," he grunted. "As long as you're sure."

"I've been in carbonite before," she added. "I know what to expect. When you're ready."

He nodded once, then pressed the button on the side of the harness. When the fog cleared, he was left staring at her pretty face, stiff and lifeless under a coat of cold metal. Her eyes had squeezed closed at the last moment, her brow furrowed, frozen in an expression of mild discomfort.

Despite knowing that this was what she wanted, Din couldn't help but feel a little guilty. Would it have been wrong to insist that she stay out of the carbonite until they reached Nevarro? He didn't have much to offer, but a part of him would've liked the opportunity to return her hospitality.

He scoffed at himself. Yeah, field rations and an uncomfortable bunk. Nice, Djarin.

The trip to Nevarro felt longer than usual. Din spent the trip doing his best to push the quarry out of his mind. He still had questions, of course. She was strange, yes, but fascinating. The name on the fob was Ena Sma, but from what he'd seen, he doubted that it was her real one. Just how many aliases did she have? And why?

He lost the chance to ask when he turned the fob over to Karga. He didn't watch her be unloaded from the cargo hold of his ship.

He never tried to figure out what happened to her after, if she cleaned up the issue with the spice dealers or got killed in the process. He tried to convince himself that he didn't care, but caught himself toying with the idea of visiting Movet again.

More than once.

Each time, he roughly dismissed the thought. What did it matter to him? She'd kept her end of the deal and he was 10,000 credits better for it. Part of his end had been to stay away from her little homestead. Not to mention that he had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn't be welcomed back with open arms.

Needless to say, he didn't think he'd ever see her again.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

* * *

_**Special Thanks to all who reviewed!** _


	4. The Blonde

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, short update this time. I haven’t had the brain cells to write much lately, so I’m trying to ease myself back into it.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Four:** _

_**The Blonde** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

The next time Din Djarin met his imminent wife was at a cantina on Ryloth. He was there for a bounty and had good intel that they'd be here tonight. The Mandalorian had been waiting there for a while, having hidden himself away in a back corner where he could see every exit. He'd been there long enough for the other patrons to forget the novelty of a Mandalorian, and so he was thoroughly camouflaged by the colorful press of bodies, chatter, and flashing lights.

Or at least that's what he thought.

Suddenly, she was there at his elbow. He hadn't seen her approach, and was so startled by her appearance and proximity that he'd instinctively tried to draw his blaster. But she was faster, smacking it flat against the tabletop with her palm and pinning it there before it was raised high enough to catch the attention of the half-drunken patrons and cause a scene.

She was disguised again - differently to the other two personas he'd seen. She was blonde now, her hair long and piled up on the top of her head in an intricately braided bun. Her eyes were a dazzling shade of blue that was made electric by the neon lights of the cantina.

In truth, it wasn't until she flashed him a broad grin and spoke with her distinct Movetian accent that he saw past the potential threat she presented to the shape of her face and _olfdo_ glint in her eyes.

"Up for another deal, Mando?"

She released her hold on his blaster and Din relaxed back into his seat, tucking it back into the holster. He tilted his helmet to the seat opposite of him.

"You sure? You overpaid last time," he informed her, keeping his voice light and conversational.

She chuckled, sliding into the other side of the booth. "Overpaying is a kinder mistake than underpaying, I've learned."

He grunted his understanding. "It worked out, I take it?"

She grinned mischievously. "A little too well."

"That's good." He meant it. A deep, inexplicable part of him had worried for her, but he didn't like to dwell on it. "How did you find me?"

"You're a Mandalorian. Anonymity doesn't equal discretion."

"Suppose not." He forced his attention back to the room, having to remind himself of the real reason he was in the cantina. "What's the deal?"

"Similar to the last one." Instead of her usual leathers and furs, she wore dark robes lined with deep red and gold. From her cloak, she withdrew a sack of credits similar to the one she'd given him last time. It clinked when she sat it on the table between them. "15,000 now, because it requires more effort on your part. Plus what you receive for the commission, which alone would be worth your time."

She had his attention. "Who's the contact?"

"Another loose end in need of cutting." She pushed up her sleeve and cast a glance at the watch hidden beneath. "But we can discuss details later. Bernar Dens will be here shortly."

Bernar Dens was the name of the bounty he intended to capture tonight. He glared at her warily as she slid out of the booth and stood. "How do you know that?"

She sniffed. "I don't make a habit of walking into a situation without knowing all the variables." She nodded to the bag of credits still on the table. "That's half of the payment. You'll get the other half when we establish the details."

Fair enough. She turned to leave, but paused when he asked after her, "How do I find you?"

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "You don't. I'll find you."

She melted into the crowd; there one moment, gone the next. Although he was watching the exits, he never saw her leave. Maybe she didn't. Maybe she still lurked in the shadows, waiting for him to finish this job so they could get on with the next. He imagined that she was trying to not distract him, but distract him she did.

Bernar Dens walked in a few minutes later, and suddenly he couldn't afford to be distracted. He was a professional, after all.

And really, he hoped that she stayed; that she was hidden away, watching him work with the efficiency and skill that had earned his people their reputation.

He hoped she liked what she saw.

_**~0~0~0~  
**_.


	5. In a Name

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Five:** _

_**In a Name** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

Din wasn't at all surprised when she suddenly seemed to materialize on the _Razor Crest._ The bounty was in carbonite. She appeared just as the fog from the machine cleared, apparently having seen the act of leaving the ramp down and hatch open as an open invitation to join him; which it was.

"Nicely done," she said approvingly.

Din's chest puffed out a little, but he didn't otherwise acknowledge the compliment. He folded his arms across his cuirass and leaned against the carbonite freezer. "Is this a local job?"

She shook her head. "Two systems over. Dafin III." She rummaged in her coat and came away with a tracking fob, which was blinking frantically.

Din's head tilted. "You carry your own fob?"

She shrugged. "Some hunters get ahead of themselves."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," he said lightly. "What about the Guild?"

"It's not a Guild assignment." She turned the fob over in her hand. "I have connections. One of them has the authority to distribute wanted bounties for the client. Clemint Vahst. He'll vouch for you if anyone asks. But there shouldn't be any questions about you bringing me in, anyway."

"Good." He accepted the fob and tucked it into his belt. "Who's the client?"

"Redin Deedi. He's a big figure in the Dafin underground. Bit of a local warlord, just influential enough to be annoying."

"I've heard of him." Din was already going through his mental files on Deedi. "What do you need from me?"

"I need you to actually take me in." Her voice was serious and earnest. "He has a grudge. I need to be on my feet. If I were carbonite, I don't trust him to not just leave me in it. Keep me for decoration."

Din nodded. It lined up with what he already knew about Deedi. Making an example of traitors was fairly common. "So, unlocked cuffs. A few hidden blasters. But..." He cocked his head. "Deedi's facility is a fortress. How do you plan to get out?"

She fixed him with her pale blue stare. "You take me in and walk away with the reward. The rest is nothing you need be concerned with."

"Right." He was making her suspicious, which was the last reaction he wanted from her. "I can help, though. If you... need it."

Din internally cringed at himself. Was he really that desperate?

Her head tilted minutely to the side, considering him. Her expression was unreadable. He had to fight to not fidget under the weight of her stare.

Finally, she seemed to relax, saying, "I appreciate your concern, but I have a plan, Mando. And it's already in motion. This is the last piece of a puzzle. The rest is taken care of."

Din wasn't sure why, but it felt like rejection. It stung. He bit back his disappointment. "Right. Good. Then we should go." He straightened up. "Are you ready?"

She flashed him her wolffish smile. "Always."

_**  
~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

This time, she rode with him in the cockpit. Din was acutely aware of her presence just behind him, lounging in the seat to his right with her feet propped up on the console.

He tried to make a point of not looking around - of not speaking, despite how much he wanted to. He didn't talk much - not anymore, at least, having learned early on that it was easier not to, easier to say exactly what needed to be said and to do exactly what needed to be done. No more, no less.

And his previous blunder was a keen reminder of just how awkward he could be when he _didn't_ abide by those emotional barriers, of why it was better to just stay quiet and get the job done.

He was a professional hunter. A Mandalorian warrior. He had a reputation. A code.

But just like how she'd gotten him to subvert the Guid Code, she was encouraging him to do the same to some of his personal ones. Except without bribery and credits.

Din didn't know what to think.

"How are… the _olfdo_?" He tried carefully. She'd been happy to discuss them at length, last time, so he hoped that it was a safe topic.

"They are well," she said cheerfully. "Queen whelped at the end of summer. Three pups. Two male, one female."

"Which one was Queen?"

"The alpha. A silver female. The biggest in the pack."

Din nodded, vaguely remembering being stared down by a massive silver wolf. "I bet Nana likes having new pups to babysit."

She smiled. "Yes, she is. It's been… oh, four years since the last brood. And she likes being useful. I had to give her an orphan _mucdat_ to care for so she would stop trying to baby my pit droids."

Although realizing that she'd had droids without him noticing set his teeth on edge, he didn't comment on it.

"A _mucdat_? I'm not familiar with that species."

She hummed. "They're wildcats that roam the high mountains. Sometimes they come down and are killed by hunters or predators." Her tone became wistful. "There are so few left, that when I come across an orphaned one, I'll save it if I can. And the _olfdo_ don't mind them so much, especially if they were raised with the pack. There are five that haunt my woods, now. Six, when the new one is grown."

"Huh," was all Din had to say. "I… never saw them… during my visit."

"They're very shy," she explained. "As elusive as they are, the Movetian government will not register them as a threatened species. They say that they've already been wiped out, and no more can be done… so now… it's mostly just me."

Frustration had crept into her voice. She pursed her lips to try and hide it, but Din was intrigued to stumble on something she cared deeply about.

He turned his head to look at her more fully. "You... care a lot about your home."

"Yes."

She didn't elaborate further, and he didn't want to press his luck. Din turned back to the controls, watching as hyperspace flashed and whirled past. The silence they lapsed into was easier than before, more contemplative than tense.

For a while, Din was content to just sit and enjoy her company, but as Dafin III grew nearer, he had to break the silence.

"Who exactly does Deedi think I'm bringing in?" He asked, glancing at her over his battered pauldron. "Last time, you were Ena Sma. What's the name on the puck?"

"Ah, I didn't say?" She dropped her feet from where they'd been resting on the console and sat up a little straighter. Her accent switched again, just as dramatically and flawlessly as it had the last time she'd done so.

This time, it sounded like she'd come straight from the Core. "Noa. Noa Enti. I'm a Coruscanti analyst from the Empirical Data Corps. I traded crucial information on Imperial patrol formations in exchange for safe harbor in the Dafin III Underworld."

She smirked, settling back into the seat again before adding. "Unfortunately, the flow of information goes both ways. Deedi forgot to account for that."

"Noa Enti," he echoed. "And what exactly happened to Ena Sma?"

She clucked her tongue ruefully. "Ah. I heard she met her end when she drove a speeder over the edge of the Festiv cliffs on Nefididi. Seven spice cartel guards followed. Gruesome. So sad."

Din couldn't stop the bemused puff of a laugh that caught in his modulator at her bright, matter-of-fact tone. He shook his head and turned back to the view screen.

"You must be one hell of a spy," he mused. "Ena. Noa. Are either of them even your real name?"

As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back. If asking about her escape plan had made her suspicious, asking about her true identity would surely turn her away for good. And rightfully so.

He looked back to her, ready to try and blunder his way through an apology.

_Our secrecy is our survival._

How would he feel if she'd asked for the location of his covert?

Not very trusting, to say the least.

Shockingly, she didn't recoil. She raised her eyebrows at him expectantly and rested her arms across her chest.

In her Core accent, she said, "What do you mean? My name's Noa. I told you that." She laughed humorlessly. "And a _shit_ spy, thanks for asking. All I did was look into a few files that I shouldn't have. And _then_ they abduct my partner to get to me. Deedi needed a way in… and I…" Her voice cracked, she looked away, blinking back tears. "... I didn't know what else to do…"

And damn, she _was_ good. Her delivery was perfect. If he hadn't known any better, he would've taken her story at face value.

But she knew that _he knew_ it was fake. So why bother? Why not just tell him to fuck off?

Then it clicked. She wasn't telling him to drop the subject of identities. She was making a point.

She wanted him to work for it.

 _That_ he could do.

"And… Ena Sma…" Din started slowly. "She is… _was…_ a spice smuggler that leaked information to the Empire."

She nodded. "So I've heard, anyway."

He was starting to understand; she was doing more than letting him figure out her real name, she was letting him get a glimpse at her mentality, at how she operated.

Din felt oddly privileged.

"And the woman who lives in the cottage on Movet," he said finally, "the one who cares for _olfdo_ and rescues orphan _mucdats_ , what's her name?"

Noa Enti, a Core worker who had probably never even been to Movet, somehow knew the name of a very specific woman hidden away in the North Mountains. Weird, huh?

"Nenana," she said lightly. "Nenana Orze. Though, she's been rumored to have been dead for… oh… some twenty years, or so."

Nenana Orze.

"That's a shame," Din said softly, turning to face the controls as the Navcom started blinking to signal their imminent drop from hyperspace. "I liked her."

"Mmm, yes," Nenana hummed. He didn't turn to look, but he could hear the smirk in her voice. "She liked you, too."

The breath caught in Din's throat. He refused to look around, but could picture her clearly in his mind's eye; lounging on his jump seat, streaked with the deep blue light of hyperspace. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

_**  
~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	6. The Next Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Sorry that its taking so long to get to the main conflict of this story. I just really wanted to build the base of their relationship a little before throwing them into the marriage thing.

* * *

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Six:** _

_**The Next Deal** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

Dafin III was a lot like any other planet with a government that had been destabilized by the fall of the Old Republic. Crowded, dirty, and festering with disease and crime. Drab grey buildings spiked across the skyline, pumping the air with fumes and smog. The Underworld had flourished under the Empire's indifference, and now that it had fallen and been replaced by the still-weak New Republic, those that had come to power could rule it without restraint. The leaders of crime gangs became warlords, and at the top of that chain was Deedi.

In the Dafin system, at least. His reach didn't go far beyond that. He was no Hutt.

Under Nenana's guidance, Din piloted the _Razor Crest_ through the highrises and to the shipyards near the center of the city. He'd been there several times before and would've preferred a spot a little farther out, but she seemed to have somewhere specific in mind.

While Din absolutely believed that Nenana had a plan and didn't doubt that she could take care of herself, he didn't like the idea of taking her into the heart of Deedi's domain and leaving her there.

Especially without knowing what her plan was.

Especially without knowing her Plan B or who'd she'd fall back on if things went south.

And especially not… not now.

In truth, he felt ridiculous. He wasn't completely stupid. He knew he had a crush, and knew that - at the end of his thirties - he was too old for one.

And yet…

He wasn't sure that he minded.

This - whatever _this_ was - was new to _him_. He'd been with people before, of course, but that had been purely sexual, quick one-offs to blow off steam. He'd never wanted… well, he wasn't sure _what_ he wanted, but…

But he would like the chance to find out.

Nenana didn't seem to share in his confusion. But she probably had more important things on her mind. As soon as the _Crest_ had settled, she was unstrapping herself from the jump seat and leading the way back down into the hold.

Din followed.

When he reached her, she was adjusting her robes, shuffling around hidden items and tightening the belt that held the billowing fabric snug to her waist.

Nenana glanced up and tossed him another bag of credits, which he caught one-handed. "The other half."

He nodded and tucked it away in his belt.

"I assume you know how to get there?" She asked, pulling strands of platinum blonde hair out of the intricate braided bun and intentionally mussing it up.

"Yes. I've done a bounty for him before."

"Oh?" She grinned. "Who was it?"

"Just some bail jumper," he said dismissively. "They weren't worth much."

"You probably got shorted," she pointed out. "Deedi's not known for paying well."

Din shrugged. "It was a Guild job. I didn't put much thought into it."

"Well, Guild rates are better than most." She brushed a few of the now-frazzled locks away from her face. "You got binders?"

"Yes." He took the pair from his belt. When she held out her hands to be cuffed, he hesitated. "You sure you're ready?"

She sniffed. "I told you. _Always_."

"Yeah." He slipped them carefully over her wrists but didn't lock them. "You need anything else?"

Nenana thought about it for a moment, then shook her head.

Din scrambled for something else to say. The moment they walked down that ramp, she would be Noa Enti, and he, her captor. Even though he would make a terrible spy, he understood how important it was that they both stay in character. If they slipped up and word got back to Deedi, they would both be screwed.

But he didn't know her exit strategy. He didn't know her way off world. If he were to seek her out, it would be as an uninvited guest to her safe haven in the mountains - with no guarantee that he'd be welcome. The moment they walked down the ramp, he wouldn't be able to speak with her as Nenana, and might never get the chance to again.

Nenana sensed his hesitation. She raised her eyebrows. "Are _you_ ready?"

"Yeah…" He almost let it go, almost told himself to get over it and not make a damn fool of himself. "Nenana…"

She gave him a blank look and, in Noa's Coruscanti accent, said, "Who?"

Right.

He got the distinct impression that she was just making the point that her true identity needed to be kept hidden - or even that she was just messing with him - but it still made him flounder for another moment.

 _Kriff_ , he was so far out of his depth.

Thank the Maker for the helmet hiding his face.

"I mean…" Din cursed himself for being such a coward, and then again for spending so much of his adult life going out of his way to avoid friendships, because maybe if he hadn't, then he'd know _what the_ _kriff he was supposed to say_. "If I… wanted... to see y… _her_ again… would… how…"

The sentence floundered in his mind. He was getting frustrated. Finally he settled on, "Is… that an option?"

There - he'd said it.

Concealed by his helmet, he squeezed his eyes closed and braced for rejection as a hundred other _smoother_ ways of asking 'can I see you again?' Raced through his mind.

He… he literally could've just said that: _Can I see you again?_

_After this is over, can I see you again?_

Kriffing hell.

"I think… _she_ would be amenable."

Din's eyes snapped open to see her blinking up at him. Her expression wasn't easy to read, but it seemed genuine. She looked thoughtful, maybe a little surprised, but nothing on her face suggested that what he'd said was outrageous or unpleasant.

" _Really?_ " He couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice, which only gave him something else to be embarrassed about.

Her Movetian accent made a reappearance. "Yes. Really."

For a moment, he was elated, then he had another, horrible thought. Their situation wasn't without risks, and they were both fully aware that Din had the ability to screw her over and tell Deedi that she had some kind of plan. Not that he knew what the plan was, but still...

Was she just telling him what he wanted to hear?

"You don't… you don't have to," Din said hurriedly. "I wouldn't… our deal still stands, either way. It's fine if—"

"Mando." Her voice was gentle but stern, tinged with amusement.

He stopped, head tipping sheepishly to the side.

Slowly, carefully, she reached out with her technically-bound hands. They found one of his, hooking his fingers in hers and tugging gently.

Enraptured, Din watched as she brought it up to her face. Her gaze penetrated the visor - locking onto his and never once wavering.

His fingers twitched reflexively when the tips of his gloves brushed past her cheekbone.

The glove on that particular hand had rolled up a little, exposing an inch or so of the skin of his wrist. His breath stuttered in his chest when she brought it to her lips.

Her mouth was hot… hot, and impossibly soft. His skin burned where it touched hers. Din swore he could feel her pulse through her lips, but it was quick and frantic, so it may have been his own.

The kiss lingered. Din's blood roared in his ears. When she spoke again, he felt the shape of her words pressed into his bare wrist; felt her soft puffs of breath tickle his skin.

" _I_ mean what _I_ say, Mandalorian."

When she released his hand, it flopped lifelessly back to his side. Din felt strangely dizzy, like all the blood that was usually in his brain was now collecting in his wrist, which was still tingling where she'd touched him.

He desperately wanted her to do it again.

Nenana smiled at him, and this time it was warm and gentle, lacking the wolf-like aggression and hunger that had defined the others he'd seen. It was kind, and maybe even a little shy.

But it quickly faded. She returned her attention to the cuffs, readjusting them so it was harder to tell that they weren't locked.

"One more thing," she started, back to business.

"What?" Din doubted that there was anything she couldn't make him do in that moment.

"Noa Enti will struggle," she informed him in her Movetian accent. Nenana lifted her gaze from the cuffs to fix him with a stern glare. "Hold back, and I'll be offended."

Din didn't like the sound of that.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

As it turned out, he didn't like the practice of it either.

Logically, he saw the necessity of roughing her up a little on the way to Deedi's facility. It would raise suspicions if she walked in without looking like she'd put up a fight. And he understood what she'd said about being offended - if the roles had been reversed, he'd have felt the same way. He didn't doubt that she could handle it, he just… didn't want to.

Nenana seemed to understand this, and made it as easy for him as possible. As soon as she'd stepped foot off the _Razor Crest_ , she had been a completely different person. Nenana Orze was gone, and Noa Enti had taken her place so absolutely that it was almost easy to pretend that the other had never existed.

Almost, at least.

Noa kicked, spit, and fought. She begged, she cursed, and she threatened. At one point, when he'd been temporarily distracted by a particularly aggressive street vendor, she'd balled up her bound firsts and driven them into his ribs. Hard.

The breath was knocked out of him. It _hurt_.

Then she ran.

It was _easier_ then. The instincts he'd built up from decades of bounty hunting had kicked in, and he'd had no qualms about cornering her in an alleyway and slamming her into the wall.

When she came away with a bloody lip, Din froze. Horrified. For a moment, he was about to stutter an apology and try and clean her up, but then she lashed out at him again, enough to cause him more pain, and he remembered that she was _literally_ _paying him to do this._

Redin Deedi's facility was a tall, skyscraper-esque building. From what Din already knew, Deedi's personal chambers were hidden away somewhere near the top, with chambers for balls, parties, and formal dinners with other Underworld crime lords as well as government officials from surrounding systems tucked away in the middle levels.

Oh, to be a disgustingly wealthy criminal.

Deedi's guards had let them in without question. Bounty hunters came in and out all the time. They checked who he had, and the name Noa Enti got them an immediate audience with Deedi himself.

Din wondered if there was more to the story of Noa Enti and Redin Deedi. Maybe he would get the chance to ask her about it later.

He _hoped_ he would.

It wasn't until the exchange had been made and he was back out in the crowded streets of Dafin III that he wondered if she'd actually meant what she'd said about being open to seeing him again.

Namely because they hadn't figured out a _when_ and _where._ Did she expect him to wait for her at the _Crest?_ Or would it be too dangerous for her to leave the planet the same way she'd arrived? Was he welcome to visit her on Movet?

She'd already proven that she could find him whenever she wanted, but something about that made him wonder if she actually would.

He _knew_ she could lie - hell, she could lie better than anyone he'd ever met. So it wasn't exactly hard to imagine that she _had_ told him what he wanted to hear - to ensure his compliance, or maybe even to protect his feelings.

Din knew he didn't have room to complain about it. The bounty for Noa Enti _had_ been worthwhile. 50,000 credits plus the 15,000 Nenana had given him - he was 65,000 credits better off, and had barely broken a sweat to earn them.

He knew that he could just leave. If she'd been serious, she knew how to find him. If she hadn't, well… there wasn't anything to be done.

But still, he lingered. He wandered the streets for a bit, visiting the vendors selling all kinds of illegal substances and weapons, taking the time to go ahead and restock his supplies, which had been dwindling for a while now.

All the while, Deedi's fortress loomed over everything, feeling very much like the malicious little brother of the elder god mountains protecting Nenana's haven.

If nothing else, he hoped to learn if she'd gotten out safely.

The ground rumbled beneath his feet. Din whipped around from where he'd been haggling for some extra medical supplies just in time to see the second and third explosions envelop two sections of Deedi's skyscraper in flames.

The first had happened near the top of the building - Deedi's private meeting rooms, at a guess. The other two were lower, carving out huge chunks of steel and rock - crippling the stronghold.

The people of the city were out in the streets, pressing together in throngs to watch the spectacle. Glass and twisted lumps of molten steel were raining down, but the structures that sprawled around the base also belonged to Deedi, so no one much cared.

The smoggy sky was already dark with smoke and ash. The drone of city life was drowned by the wailing of alarms and the thrum of droid-piloted fire suppression vessels already swarming the building, combating the roaring flames with streams of water and foam.

Din shoved credits at the vendor, who was no longer interested in the transaction and shoved the supplies into the russack sack he had thrown across his shoulders before pushing his way through the crowd, making for the source of the commotion without a second thought.

**  
~0~0~0~**

**.**


	7. The Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: It's 4:30 am. Sorry if this chapter is rough, but I really just wanted to hammer it out so we can move on.
> 
> This chapter is in Nenana's POV.

**  
.**

**~0~0~0~**

**Chapter Seven:**

**The Escape**

**~0~0~0~**

**.**

Noa Enti was dead.

Finally.

Redin Deedi might be dead. Might not. To tell the truth, she didn't care much either way, so long as her bridge to him was as charred as the corpse she'd left in place of her own.

She didn't like killing off her characters; she'd lost five of them in the past six months. Her pool of identity options was dwindling, and she hated being without a cover.

Soon, she would have to come up with some new ones.

It wouldn't be as easy as it once had been.

For the moment, though, she was fine with being no one. Noa Enti was dead. Nenana Orze had never set foot on Dafin III.

No One stalked through the darkened hall, guided by the blinking security lights. Her clever planning and well placed credits had seen the power cut, and the explosives she'd smuggled in under the guise of an engineer had done their job perfectly. The extra security uniform and helmet had been easy to steal, and the others were far too busy doing damage control to notice that their ranks had grown by one. Everything had gone exactly to plan.

There was one problem, though.

She was hurt.

Human variables - something that couldn't always be planned against. There had been precious few seconds between Deedi learning about the fake explosives strapped to her chest and the detonation of the real ones embedded in the drink trolley. In the chaos of those few seconds - where everyone was scrambling to get out of the room - one of the guards had panicked.

The blaster bolt had clipped her side - just below the ribs. Mercifully, it hadn't hit anything important, but it still hurt like hell and would pose a real issue if she didn't get the bleeding stopped soon.

Also, it was slowing her way down.

But other than that, everything was fine. She was struggling to keep moving, but good at faking it. The cover wasn't elaborate enough for her liking, but the black tinted visor covering the upper half of her face and requisition blaster she carried were working well enough.

Well… _almost_ well enough.

She'd actually made it out of the building and was moving through the alleyways created by the auxiliary buildings surrounding the main tower - Deedi's own little self-sufficient town within the city; the wealthy businesses and housing that the rest of the planet couldn't afford.

Smoke choked the air, reducing the usually well-lit streets into a greasy haze. The place was abandoned, the people all having fled the shadow of the burning building or hiding away in safe rooms built into the basements for situations like this. A droid or two bumbled by, locking up the businesses and generally doing the things their owners weren't willing to stay out to do, but they didn't pay her any mind.

Slowed by her injury, she was about a minute and a half behind schedule; Deedi's men would be reorganizing by now. Her window for a clean exit was closing fast.

Sure enough, Nenana cursed herself when three guards - _real_ guards - came jogging around the corner of a soot-caked Colo Claw Fish dinery and a jeweler's.

It was too late to hide. Even in the subpar conditions, they'd already seen her.

"Hey, you! Stop right there!"

And they knew that there was something off about her. Great.

In her condition, she needed to avoid a shoot out if she could.

Only one thing for it.

She lifted her head, squared her shoulders, and marched straight up to them.

"Report!" She barked impatiently in her best Huttese accent, knowing that it was the first language of many of the soldiers hired from Dafin III. She turned her helmeted face from one to another, fixing them each with an imposing glare.

The trio wavered. She jumped on their confusion.

"What's the status of Sector Three? Has that section been secured yet?"

The one in the middle - the highest ranking, according to the button on his lapel - squared his shoulders. "No, ma'am. Squadrons Two and Four are converging on Sector Seven. Looters have broken through the outer barriers."

Ah, excellent. She'd hoped something like that would happen. Although Deedi controlled the major crime gangs, his shift to higher caliber goods had left the lower niches up for grabs. The smaller underground gangs would be moving in to see what they could get.

A great cover for her, should the resolution to her current problem require the corpses of the three guards.

She heaved a frustrated sigh. "Get on the comm and divert Squad Four to Sector Three. Those cargo entrances are wide open."

He immediately moved to do as she said, but hesitated when one of his companions, a green twi'lek man, spoke up. "With all due respect, ma'am, why not call in the order yourself?"

Shit.

"You don't get to fucking talk to me that way!" She snarled, hoping a threat from a supposed-superior would blot out any doubts he had running through his head. "Do as you're told, or I'll have you strung up and shot."

"Ma'am, you're bleeding," the third guard, a human female, pointed out. "There hasn't been any shooting in this Sector yet."

Fuck.

"That's right," the first man who she'd almost fooled finally caught on. He stepped forward menacingly, his hand going to the blaster at his hip. She held her ground. "Unless you've been through Sector Seven already, eh?"

This was exactly why she _hated_ not having an elaborate cover. She would have created one in advance, but she'd already made one for when she'd had to pose as an engineer, and she hated creating more than one new person per mission. A single anomaly in a database would be overlooked, but two?

"I was patrolling Sector Seven when the first looters pushed through," she growled. "I was hit and fell back. I was on my way to the medical wing, but got _fucking distracted_ when I saw that those exits are wide open. The main building should be on lockdown! Do you know how much the droids in the cargo bay are worth? A lot more than you'll ever see, you can believe that. When the Commander finds out that…"

A flash of silver flickered around the corner of the jeweler's, dim in the smoky light. Nenana was cut off by the flash and whine of three blaster bolts.

The guards slumped to the ground. Dead. The Mandalorian loomed behind them, silent as a ghost with a rucksack bag slung over his shoulder, blaster still half-raised.

Unexpected, sure, but she couldn't say she was disappointed to see him.

Nenana let her posture slump, tearing off her black helmet and clamping her hand to the wound on her side. Blood oozed between her fingers from where they pressed into the soaked fabric.

"Just can't get enough of me, eh?"

The Mandalorian lifted one of his shoulders in a half-shrug. "I thought you might need help."

"I had it under control," she defended lightly, sliding back into her native accent now that she had no reason to do otherwise. And anyway, it felt like the right one to use with him.

His head tipped forward slightly. "Looked like it."

A smile twitched on her lips at his dry humor. "It would've all been fine, but this…" She lifted her hand to show him her bloody palm. "...was slowing me down."

"That looks bad." He holstered his blaster and moved to her side, indicating her injury with his head. "You okay?"

Nenana shrugged. "I've had worse."

"Here." Mando dug into the bag he carried, coming away with a thick gauze patch and peeling off the plastic covering the adhesive side. "This is bacta-infused, but it'll still need to be cleaned and bandaged properly."

"Oh, bacta-infused," she quipped goodnaturedly as she picked the sopping fabric away from the wound. "What did I do to earn such quality care?"

He shrugged. "You overpaid."

Nenana huffed a laugh and pulled up the hem of her uniform, exposing just enough of her blood-slicked hip for the Mandalorian to press the bandage firmly in place over the weeping gash.

She gritted through the pain. "Thanks, Mando."

Mando dipped his head in acknowledgement, smoothing down the edges of the bandage before tugging her shirt back down to cover it.

Nenana sighed and straightened up. "We need to move. They'll be focused on Sector Seven, but they won't leave this section undefended for long."

"Agreed." Mando adjusted the bag on his shoulder, visor glinting in the half-light as he cast a quick glance about the empty street before fixing back on her. "My ship, or somewhere else?"

Nenana chuckled breathlessly, leading the way around the corner while Mando followed, blaster drawn and on guard. "I know I promised you a date, Mando, but let's not get ahead of ourselves."

He stiffened, having caught the suggestive undertone behind her words.

"That... that's not what I..." he stuttered, making her grin. His helmet jerked to her, but when he saw her smirk he looked away sheepishly, shoulders rolling loose with acceptance. "Yeah, okay."

She barked out a soft laugh. "Yours."

Nenana wasn't sure what to make of the Mandalorian. When he'd first appeared on her homestead, she'd been impressed with his steadfast composure in the face of the _olfdo_ , and then again with his quiet good manners and helpfulness as he worked in her kitchen.

She hadn't been lying before when she said that she liked him; it was something that she'd readily admit. But now that he'd made it clear that he was interested in something more than a business arrangement and thoroughly charmed her with his gruff awkwardness… she wasn't sure what to think.

And that uncertainty had nothing to do with him. It had been a long time since Nenana had even considered what he had insinuated… something _more_. For her entire adult life, she'd thought of relationships as an end to a means; getting close enough to the right person to overhear the right sentence or to plant the right suggestion in the right ear.

 _That_ , she knew how to do. But doing it for real - because she meant it; because she _wanted_ to…

Nenana wasn't sure she could leave her old mentality behind enough to manage it.

But that was why she'd been doing all this, right? Putting her life on the line _again_ even after she'd gotten out of the service. Tying up all her loose ends so she could leave her past behind; so that she could have an _After._

In the hull of the Mandalorian's ship, deep in hyperspace, she watched as the warrior, clad in dirty, battered armor cleaned and dressed her wound. His hands were large and strong, worn by blasters and combat, and yet his touch was careful and feather-light.

Yes, she _liked_ him.

She knew he _liked_ her.

But what came next? She couldn't even imagine what the next step could possibly be. Sure, she'd gone through the motions before, but was struggling to work out how to apply them to the man before her.

They couldn't exactly go out to dinner.

How did you go on a date with a Mandalorian? Hell, how did someone go on a date with _her_?

She was at a complete loss.

He probably didn't have a clue, either.

Maybe it didn't matter that they didn't know.

As Nenana watched him work, his helmet bowed close to her shoulder as he focused on getting the bandage _just right_ , she couldn't help but wonder if maybe this is what the start of the _After_ she'd been wanting looked like.

Whether it was or wasn't, it was worth the effort of finding out.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I'm also taking Mando/Nen date ideas, if you guys have any suggestions.


End file.
